


Your Share of Happiness

by LeapAngstily



Series: December Footie Fanfic Giveaway [9]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Infidelity, M/M, Open relationship (kind of), PWP - Porn with Peerlo, Threesome - M/M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:06:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3117860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeapAngstily/pseuds/LeapAngstily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There has been a third person in Andrea and Riccardo’s relationship from the start, but as the things progress, the situation becomes more complicated and the feelings involved much more difficult to ignore. Andrea just wants everything to make sense, even if it means sharing Riccardo’s affections.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Share of Happiness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Porpentina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Porpentina/gifts).



> Technically I didn’t get a prompt for this, but I did promise my roommate I would write her fluffy(ish) threesome porn with Pirlo and Pazzolivo for the holidays. It’s a bit late, I know, but it’s as good a way as any to end this giveaway round.
> 
> For the sake of this story, I’ve made Pirlo break up with Valentina (his current gf) and Monto was never with Cristina (his wife), while Pazzo is still married to Silvia.

Andrea does not mean to get involved with Riccardo when he first starts flirting with him.  
  
It is supposed to be just a bit of easy fun after his divorce and the subsequent cheating scandal that ended up in another messy breakup. After two failures, another relationship is the last thing Andrea needs.  
  
But as things turn out, it is not so easy to walk away from an open invitation. Innocent flirting turns into a one night stand –  _with no strings attached_ , Andrea makes sure to point out – which in turn leads into a semi-regular fuck-buddy arrangement.  
  
By the time Andrea realizes the arrangement has changed into a full relationship with hand-holding, midnight calls, and keys to Riccardo’s apartment hanging from Andrea’s keychain, there is nothing he can do about it.  
  
Because he is head over heels in love with Riccardo, much more so than he ever was with Deborah or Valentina – a fact he had been refusing to acknowledge until it was far too late.  
  
“I love you too, you big oaf,” Riccardo tells him with a wide smile when Andrea finally expresses his feelings for him out loud. Andrea has a sneaking suspicion that Riccardo had known what he was about to say long before the words actually came out of his mouth.  
  
But no matter how happy they are together – and Andrea  _is_  happy with Riccardo, there is no way around it – Andrea soon realizes there is another person in this relationship with them.  
  
Andrea has known Giampaolo Pazzini for years: as an opponent, as Riccardo’s friend, and as an occasional national team teammate back when the striker was still called up occasionally.  
  
He really gets to know Giampaolo only as his relationship with Riccardo progresses, because when you are involved with one, the other will come along with the package. Andrea has many close friends, but none of them come even close to what Giampaolo is to Riccardo: quite frankly, he has never encountered a pair of friends so co-dependent before.  
  
Giampaolo is at Riccardo’s place every other time Andrea comes over, lounging on his couch or eating his food without separate permission, usually not even communicating with Riccardo but just comfortably  _coexisting_.  
  
And when Giampaolo is not there, Riccardo still brings him up casually while talking about his day, about practice, or maybe about the last game Milan played. Andrea is fairly sure Riccardo does not even realize how much he talks about his friend.  
  
Giampaolo is also the first person who finds out about their relationship, long before Andrea can even consider telling his own friends. In fact, Giampaolo probably knew Andrea and Riccardo were together before Andrea himself realized how committed their involvement had become.  
  
Andrea thinks himself a perceptive man, but it still takes him a while to realize there is something more to Riccardo and Giampaolo’s friendship than just their long time spent together: the way Riccardo interacts with Giampaolo is completely different from the way he treats all his other friends, even the ones he considers the closest.  
  
At first Andrea thinks there are no boundaries between the two – the way they can talk about everything, the way they can touch each other without a second thought, the way they can bicker like an old couple – but the more he learns more about Riccardo, the more obvious it becomes the boundaries are there, much bigger than Andrea could have ever imagined.  
  
It is the one second of hesitation when Andrea jokes about being jealous of Giampaolo. It is the way Riccardo steps just out of Giampaolo’s reach right before the hand caressing his back slips too low. It is the almost invisible – probably unconscious – flinch when Giampaolo mentions his wife around Riccardo.  
  
It is the way Riccardo brushes off any questions about his past relationships, even after Andrea tells him about his own marriage and how it ended.  
  
“The way you look at him, it’s almost as if it was him you were in love with and not me,” Andrea tells Riccardo once, hiding the genuine observation behind a veil of joking demeanour, wrapping his arms around Riccardo’s waist from behind and kissing his neck to lessen the impact.  
  
“Don’t be stupid. He’s just Giampi,” Riccardo huffs back as he lets Andrea guide him towards the bedroom, “I love  _you_. Why’s that so hard for you to understand?”  
  
And Andrea has no doubt about the honesty of his words, because he knows Riccardo loves him. It is why he is not jealous, not even though he can see Riccardo loves Giampaolo as well.  
  
If there is one thing Andrea has learned from the whole affair-leading-to-divorce spectacle, it is that it is possible to love several people at the same time. What matters is how you handle the situation, and Andrea knows Riccardo would never cheat on him.  
  
  
  
Andrea begins to worry only when Giampaolo seems to disappear from the picture: Riccardo starts going out with his other friends more often, he makes a note not to bring up Giampaolo when he is talking to Andrea, and suddenly Giampaolo’s visits to Riccardo’s place stop almost completely.  
  
Riccardo tells him it is because the new season just started, so Giampaolo is busy with training. Andrea knows it is not the case, because football is keeping him busy as well, and it does not stop him from spending almost all his nights with Riccardo.  
  
For a while he thinks it is a good thing – Riccardo taking a bit of distance from Giampaolo to figure out his own feelings – but the longer it takes, the clearer it becomes that Riccardo is suffering from the situation.  
  
“You should invite him over,” Andrea tells him one night, when they are lounging on the couch in Riccardo’s apartment, Riccardo half-lying on top of Andrea, “It’s obvious you miss having him around – stop torturing yourself.”  
  
Riccardo huffs at him in response and sits up abruptly, meeting Andrea’s eyes challengingly, “It sounds like you  _want_  me to fuck him! If you’re tired of me you can just say so!”  
  
Andrea had expected the reaction to be bad, but Riccardo snapping at him comes as a surprise: Riccardo is usually so calm off-pitch, almost to a fault. Andrea cannot remember ever seeing him get angry unless football is involved.  
  
“I didn’t say anything about fucking, did I?” he argues, keeping his voice soft, knowing he is pushing his luck with every word, “I’m not  _tired_  of you, Riccardo, I just hate seeing you like this: like you’re missing a part of yourself.”  
  
It is the truth: since Riccardo started avoiding Giampaolo, he has become more closed-off, private, overly careful even around Andrea. He is keeping his thoughts to himself, mulling in his own negative feelings with no outlet for them.  
  
It is not the Riccardo Andrea fell in love with.  
  
Riccardo pulls his legs up against his chest, wrapping his arms around them, unconsciously creating an invisible barrier between them, before he says more quietly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just— Things are a bit complicated, right now, between me and Giampi.”  
  
Andrea wants to touch Riccardo, just his arm or shoulder or maybe hand, but Riccardo looks like he could flinch away from any kind of contact, and Andrea does not want to feel that rejection.  
  
“You know you can talk to me about anything, don’t you?” he says instead, looking at Riccardo until he meets his eyes reluctantly, “I’m not going anywhere, unless you ask me to.”  
  
“I’m never gonna ask you to go,” Riccardo’s answer is nothing more than a whisper, but he shifts his weight now, leaning his head on Andrea’s shoulder, “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Andrea.”  
  
He sounds like he wants to say something more but he stays silent, and Andrea decides to give it a rest for the night, just wrapping his arm around Riccardo’s waist and pulling him closer.  
  
  
  
Riccardo goes out with Giampaolo the following night, and when Andrea meets him the next time, there is a new shine to his smile that Andrea had been missing all along.  
  
  
  
It is Giampaolo that finally tells Andrea everything. Andrea feels almost bad for cornering him instead of Riccardo, who really should be the one to tell Andrea these things, but he has long since realized this is the one topic Riccardo will probably never be ready to talk about.  
  
“It was just a stupid teenage crush, back when I first moved to Bergamo,” Giampaolo tells him with a shrug, but Andrea can tell he is not telling the whole truth, “We kissed a couple of times, yeah, but then we decided it wasn’t worth the risk of getting caught. I met Silvia soon after, and we’ve been friends with Riccardo ever since.”  
  
Andrea remembers the social pressure from his own teenage years – being gay was something they just could not afford if they wanted to become professional footballers – so in a way he understands what had happened. He also understands things are never quite that simple.  
  
“You got married,” Andrea states simply, “He never did. He’s been pining for you all these years.”  
  
“He’s with you now, isn’t he?” Giampaolo retorts immediately, glaring at Andrea as if daring him to say anything more. Andrea is not surprised in the least when he sees the obvious jealously in the dark eyes.  
  
“And I can make him happy,” Andrea assures him calmly, almost challenging, “Because I can give him something you never did – a proper relationship, someone to come home to.”  
  
“So why are you asking me about this, then?” Giampaolo asks him sharply, “If you want me to stay away from him, you’re sorely mistaken. He’s my best friend: I’ll be there for him long after you’re gone.”  
  
“I have no intention of leaving Riccardo,” Andrea tells him with a roll of his eyes, “And I’m not jealous. I know he needs you around to be happy, so I’d never ask him to choose between us. I just want to know what’s going on with him, because if it affects his life, then it affects mine as well.”  
  
Giampaolo’s glare softens just a bit, something akin to understanding flashing over his face before his frown is back to normal, “There’s nothing to choose. I’m his friend. You’re his lover. Just take care of him, will you?”  
  
And now Andrea knows for sure: he knows Giampaolo loves Riccardo as much as Riccardo loves Giampaolo, even if he could never admit it outright.  
  
  
  
It seems like their lives settle in the comfortable routines as Riccardo’s rehabilitation period ends, the x-rays show the bone is all healed, and he gets a permission go back to training.  
  
Giampaolo is still around, not acting any differently around Andrea than before their talk: they have come to a silent agreement that Riccardo’s happiness is what they both want the most.  
  
Andrea really should have realized it is just calm before the storm, but he is too busy enjoying Riccardo’s excitement over his upcoming comeback match: this is what they have been waiting for since he got injured.  
  
The call from Riccardo late at night after Milan plays Udinese takes Andrea by surprise. Riccardo had promised to come over the following day – after getting a full night’s sleep – so there should be no reason for him to call Andrea.  
  
“I kissed him,” Riccardo blurts out right away when Andrea answers the phone and there is no need to ask who he is talking about, “After the match. It happened in the spur of the moment: it felt so amazing to finally be back on the pitch and we won and I was just so  _happy_  and I— I’m sorry, Andrea, it meant nothing, I swear.”  
  
Andrea waits patiently for him to finish, his own conflicted emotions rushing through his mind. For a second there is jealously but it is overpowered quickly with  _relief_ , because without even realizing it, Andrea has been worrying Riccardo might never come to terms with his feelings.  
  
“Please say something?” Riccardo whispers into the phone and the silent plea makes Andrea realize he is yet to answer Riccardo’s distressed outburst.  
  
“I’m not angry,” he says quietly, “You needed someone there to make it real, I get it. Thank you for telling me.”  
  
Riccardo is sniffling on the other end and Andrea realizes with a start he must be crying. It must have taken all his courage just to pick up his phone and call Andrea.  
  
“Listen to me, Riccardo,” he continues with his most calming tone, “I know you have feelings for him. I know it must be scary for you, to realize just how deep those feelings still are. But I also know you’d never do anything to hurt me on purpose. Because  _I know you_. And I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”  
  
“I love you, Andrea,” Riccardo tells him, his voice trembling, “It won’t happen again. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”  
  
Andrea wants to tell him to stop apologizing, but just as he is about to open his mouth, he realizes the apologies are there to put Riccardo’s own mind at ease much more than Andrea’s.  
  
So he lets Riccardo talk, assuring him time and time again that it will be alright, until he is sure he will be fine until the morning when they can talk face to face.  
  
  
  
An idea begins to form in Andrea’s mind when he actually sees Riccardo and notices how hard it is for him to stop thinking about that one spontaneous kiss – how he keeps torturing himself with guilt even though Andrea has never blamed him.  
  
He knows not to bring up the suggestion too abruptly, because Riccardo would only take it as a confirmation that Andrea wants to leave him and push him towards Giampaolo, which is definitely the last thing on Andrea’s mind.  
  
What Andrea wants is to show that he does not mind even if Riccardo loves Giampaolo – even if he wants to sleep with him – because he knows it does not mean Riccardo’s feelings for Andrea are any less intense.  
  
Giampaolo was there first – he has always been the first one in Riccardo’s heart – and if anything, Andrea should be grateful that Riccardo has enough love to spare some for him as well.  
  
But Riccardo would not understand even if Andrea told him all this, so he bids his time instead, waiting for Riccardo to figure out what he wants to do on his own.  
  
For the first time, Riccardo talks to Andrea about his feelings for Giampaolo, about the teenage crush that never really went away, about the way he forced himself to forget about Giampaolo only when he decided to marry Silvia, with Riccardo as his best man.  
  
Andrea urges Riccardo on with carefully chosen questions, reassuring him whenever he begins to hesitate, reminding him they need to be honest with themselves as well as with each other if they really want to make this relationship work.  
  
And then, after two weeks of long talks, numerous questions, and silent nights when Andrea only opts to hold Riccardo, he finally thinks it might be the right time to give Riccardo a question for consideration.  
  
“If I was okay with it – and he was okay with it, of course – would you sleep with him?” Andrea whispers into Riccardo’s ear when they are lying in bed, tightening his hold on him and pressing a kiss into his hair when he feels him tensing in his arms, “I’m not saying that’s the case – it’s just an idea, nothing more – I just want to know if you would do it.”  
  
Riccardo relaxes slowly when Andrea does not push the subject, breathing out a long sigh and searching Andrea’s hand with his own, “Why would I do that? I love you, I don’t want anyone else.”  
  
But it is a lie, because Riccardo has told Andrea he still has feelings for Giampaolo, has finally admitted it to himself.  
  
“So you wouldn’t want to do it?” Andrea asks quietly, urging Riccardo to turn around so that they are facing each other, “Not even once, to know how it feels like? To have a closure? What if I asked you to do it?”  
  
Riccardo’s blue eyes are full of confusion and he is biting the inside of his lip nervously, “Would you be there, too?”  
  
“I could, if you wanted me to,” Andrea takes a hold of Riccardo’s hand and pulls it to his lips, kissing his palm, never breaking the eye-contact, “I just want you to be happy – I don’t want you to have any regrets.”  
  
“I’m happy with you,” Riccardo argues softly but his voice lacks conviction, all his recent confusion and their talks obviously running through his mind now, “I don’t know. It’s not right.”  
  
“Don’t worry, I won’t force you into anything you don’t want,” Andrea assures him and presses a gentle kiss on his lips before concluding, “Just think about it. Really think about it. It’s your choice.”  
  
He kisses Riccardo again, longer this time, drawing out a soft moan that is swallowed into the kiss.  
  
“Okay,” Riccardo mouths the word against Andrea’s lips and afterwards Andrea is not even sure if he actually said anything at all.  
  
  
  
“Okay,” Riccardo tells Andrea on Christmas Eve, right after they finish the dinner that was half takeaway, half Riccardo’s mother’s cooking she had brought them earlier, “I’ll do it, if Giampaolo is okay with it. But only if you’re with us the whole time.”  
  
Andrea pours Riccardo a bit more wine and then takes his hand into his own, caressing his palm with his thumb, “Should I talk to him? Or do you want to do it?”  
  
“Let me do it,” Riccardo says after a short moment of consideration, “This is about me, I can’t ask you to do more than you already have. I’ll talk to him while we’re in Dubai.”  
  
“It’s your choice,” Andrea tells him simply. The hesitant smile he receives in return is the best Christmas present he could have hoped for.  
  
  
  
 _“Why would you do it? What’s in it for you?”_  
  
Andrea is not surprised in the least when Giampaolo calls him from Dubai, obviously suspicious after hearing Riccardo’s suggestion.  
  
“He wants you. I’m just making sure I won’t be left behind when he inevitably ends up fucking you.”  
  
Technically it is a hyperbole, not a lie.  
  
 _”He’d never cheat on you. He’s not like you.”_  
  
“I know,” Andrea chuckles into the phone humourlessly, “Which is why I’m giving him the permission. Because if I didn’t, he’d end up guilt-tripping himself over the mere thought of being with you.”  
  
 _”God, you’re fucked up.”_  
  
Andrea smiles even though he knows Giampaolo cannot see it, “What does it make you? Since you’re obviously going to do it.”  
  
 _”I don’t even know anymore.”_  
  
But Andrea knows, because they are both doing this for one and only one reason, and that is their mutual love for Riccardo.  
  
  
  
Giampaolo comes over to Andrea’s place on the 1st of January – Andrea’s place because they had agreed it was a more neutral territory than Riccardo’s if something went wrong, and on the New Year’s Day because all three of them had been obliged to celebrate the Eve with other people.  
  
They sit down in the living room and Andrea pours them a glass of whiskey each, handing one to Giampaolo before sitting down next to Riccardo, wrapping his arm securely around his shoulders because he has been jittery the whole day.  
  
“Are you really sure about this, Riccardo?” Giampaolo asks quietly, breaking the silence and making Riccardo almost jump up from his place.  
  
Riccardo looks first at Giampaolo and then he meets Andrea’s eyes, expression pleading, like looking for a silent confirmation from him.  
  
“It’s not my choice to make,” Andrea tells him calmly, but he drops a gentle kiss on Riccardo’s lips anyways, reassuring him without words.  
  
“Yes,” Riccardo says softly, barely more than a whisper, and then he clears his throat and looks at Giampaolo again, “Yes, I’m sure. Are you?”  
  
“If it’s what you want – I’d do anything for you, you know that,” there is no hesitation in Giampaolo’s voice and Andrea can feel Riccardo relaxing in his arms.  
  
“We need to have a few ground rules,” Andrea raises his voice a little, taking a sip from his drink before continuing, looking at Giampaolo seriously, “First of all, we’re all in this together: if one of us wants to stop, we will all stop. Plain and simple.”  
  
Riccardo cuddles closer to Andrea’s side and lets out a soft chuckle.  
  
“What’re you laughing at?” Andrea asks with an affectionate smirk, looking down at Riccardo’s face.  
  
“Nothing. You’re just sexy when you think you’re in control,” Riccardo answers with a teasing smile, caressing Andrea’s thigh gently. They are interrupted when Giampaolo clears his throat pointedly.  
  
“Yes, the other thing,” Andrea snaps back to the business tone, “This is not a competition. No choosing, no bias, no jealousy – or at least we won’t let it affect our actions. Riccardo is not a  _prize_ , so we just go with the flow and do what feels good.”  
  
“And what about after?” Giampaolo asks, speaking slowly, choosing his words carefully, “What happens after we’ve done it? Do we act like nothing’s happened? Or will it happen again?”  
  
“Hell if I know? I’ve never done this before,” Andrea says simply, shrugging one shoulder to emphasize his point, “We can just forget about it or think of it as a one-time thing. Or we can come up with an arrangement that satisfies all our needs, if that’s what we all want to do. But we can’t know for sure before we’ve actually done it.”  
  
“And what if it breaks the existing relationships?” Giampaolo asks, obviously hesitating before he dares to even bring up the possibility, “Between the two of you, or between me and Ricky?”  
  
Riccardo presses his lips against Andrea’s shoulder, but despite the trusting gesture Andrea can feel him tensing up again.  
  
“The idea won’t disappear even if you walk out now. Everything might change even if we do nothing,” Andrea says levelly, rubbing Riccardo’s shoulder to calm him down, “We’re all adults. We all want this. I’m sure we can handle whatever comes after, as well.”  
  
“And then there won’t be any regrets,” Riccardo adds quietly, glancing at Giampaolo, “I don’t want to regret never having you, Giampi.”  
  
Andrea knows Giampaolo will not argue that even before he lets out a deep sigh and mutters with a fleeting smile, “Fine. No regrets.”  
  
Andrea finishes his whiskey and waits for Riccardo and Giampaolo to do the same. Then he stands up, offering his hand to Riccardo who takes it immediately, following his lead.  
  
“Bedroom’s over there,” Andrea tells Giampaolo with a nod towards the right door, and Giampaolo finally jumps up from his own seat, his nervousness not nearly as clear as Riccardo’s earlier but visible nonetheless.  
  
Andrea pushes his hands under the hem of Riccardo’s shirt the moment they enter the bedroom, pulling it off and dropping it to the floor carelessly. Then he kisses Riccardo – deep, hungry, familiar – before he pulls away reluctantly, nodding his head towards Giampaolo and whispering against Riccardo’s lips, “Go on, it’s what you wanted.”  
  
Riccardo brushes his lips against Andrea’s one more time before he drags his attention towards Giampaolo. He looks almost shy, which is something Andrea has never seen between Riccardo and Giampaolo. It emphasizes the unfamiliarity of the situation, for all of them.  
  
Riccardo takes the few steps separating him from Giampaolo, stopping right in front of him, lifting his hands carefully to caress Giampaolo’s neck. Andrea sits down on the bed, pulling his own shirt over his head, studying the scene in front of him.  
  
“It’s so weird,” Riccardo says softly, his eyes fixed on Giampaolo’s lips, “The first time we did this— You were my first kiss, you know?”  
  
“Yeah, I know,” Giampaolo offers a crooked smirk with the answer, one of his hands settling on the small of Riccardo’s back, fingers stroking the bare skin, “And you were mine.”  
  
It is Giampaolo who finally leans in and presses their lips together, the kiss nothing more than a chaste brush of lips at first, but then Riccardo lets out a soft whine when Giampaolo tries to pull away, wrapping his arms around his neck and crushing their lips together into a proper kiss.  
  
Whatever boundaries they used to have with each other disappear with that kiss: Giampaolo’s arms wrap around Riccardo’s waist tightly, their tongues meshing together, the contact of their lips not breaking even when they need to come up for air.  
  
It is not suave or elegant, but messy and urgent, desperate. Riccardo moans against Giampaolo’s mouth – the sound is so raw, so  _needy_  – and Andrea could swear he has never heard anything so erotic in his life.  
  
Giampaolo lets out a low chuckle when they finally pull apart, “That was  _so_  much better than when we were teenagers.”  
  
“I’ve had some practice since then,” Riccardo retorts, a playful smile on his lips as his gaze flickers towards Andrea, his whole face shining with contentment, “Learned from the best.”  
  
“If you’re planning to stay over there for much longer, you should at least get rid of your clothes,” Andrea notes dryly, kicking his own trousers off as he speaks, leaving only his boxers that are feeling too tight even now.  
  
“He’s right, you’re wearing too many clothes,” Riccardo tells Giampaolo with a smile, dropping his hands to the fly of Giampaolo’s jeans, opening it quickly and pushing them down to his thighs. Giampaolo groans when Riccardo’s hands brush against his groin, his hips jerking instinctively into the touch.  
  
“Not that fast, we’ve got all day,” Riccardo clicks his tongue in feigned disapproval, but the message is probably lost on Giampaolo because Riccardo crouches down to pull his jeans down rest of the way as he speaks, his face dangerously close to his underwear-clad crotch.  
  
“Is he always such a tease?” Giampaolo asks Andrea, his voice breathy but the teasing tone still audible.  
  
“More or less,” Andrea replies and for a second they share a look of understanding that is interrupted by Riccardo slapping Giampaolo’s thigh with an annoyed huff as he stands up, “He’s also quite an attention whore, though I’m sure you knew that already.”  
  
“Shut up, Andrea. Stop talking like I’m not in the room!” Riccardo tells him with a pout and Andrea cannot help but laugh at the clear display of the very thing he just mentioned.  
  
“Sorry. Come here: let me make it up to you.”  
  
Riccardo is still wearing his jeans, which is the first thing Andrea decides to fix when Riccardo comes to stand between his legs, his both hands combing through Andrea’s hair.  
  
“But you  _are_  an attention whore,” Andrea tells Riccardo as he opens the fly, Giampaolo joining him by pushing the jeans down Riccardo’s legs from behind, “Don’t even try to deny it – not when you’ve got two men fussing over you.”  
  
“I don’t remember asking for it,” Riccardo argues impudently as he steps out of the jeans and climbs into Andrea’s lap, pulling him into a kiss – it tastes unfamiliar, Giampaolo’s taste mixing into Riccardo’s.  
  
Riccardo wriggles his hips when they break the kiss, his erection rubbing against Andrea’s, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he presses his nose into Andrea’s hair behind to his left ear, lips brushing the earlobe gently.  
  
“Maybe not, but you do like it,” Andrea notes needlessly, splaying his hands on Riccardo’s buttocks and pulling him as close as possible.  
  
Riccardo hums his agreement into Andrea’s ear, his breath hitching as he jerks his hips against Andrea’s, trying to create as much friction as possible. Andrea has to use his hold on his butt to steady his movements, to keep things from moving too fast.  
  
Giampaolo sits on the bed next to them, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. Riccardo immediately reaches out with one hand to mess with his short hair, while the other keeps tugging on the locks at the back of Andrea’s head.  
  
“Fuck, you’re beautiful, Ricky,” Giampaolo breathes out, leaning in to press his lips on Riccardo’s neck, sucking on the skin right below his jaw line. His hand brushes Andrea’s arm as he moves to caress Riccardo’s back, tracing his spine with his fingers.  
  
Riccardo kisses the shell of Andrea’s ear, his tongue flicking out, leaving a cold sensation on Andrea’s skin, before he whispers, “I want him to fuck me. Is it okay?”  
  
“Why don’t you ask him?” Andrea retorts, his voice breaking as their cocks are pressed against each other right then, the pressure making Andrea grow harder with Riccardo’s every movement.  
  
Giampaolo, who is close enough to have heard the exchange, slides his hand up to Riccardo’s neck, urging him to turn his head towards him for another kiss, this one much slower than the first, although no less passionate.  
  
“Will you?” Riccardo asks once the kiss ends, his breathing laboured, the movements of his hips not stopping, like he was moving more on instinct than deliberation.  
  
“Fuck yes,” Giampaolo answers and kisses Riccardo again to seal the deal.  
  
Andrea pushes on Riccardo gently and Riccardo catches the wordless message, moving off of him and into Giampaolo’s lap, allowing Andrea to scoot back on the bed and pick up the lube from the nightstand.  
  
“This might be easier if you weren’t wearing the boxers,” Andrea notes helpfully as he pokes Riccardo’s side, interrupting his attempt to leave as many marks on Giampaolo’s neck as possible – it would not do if Giampaolo got in trouble with his wife because Riccardo could not control himself.  
  
Riccardo stands up reluctantly, taking Giampaolo’s hands in his own and pulling them to his waistband. Giampaolo follows the silent demand, pushing the underwear off carefully, revealing Riccardo’s fully hard erection, his eyes glued on the sight.  
  
“You too, I’m not gonna be the only one naked here,” Riccardo says with a cheeky smile, obviously aware how much he is affecting the both of them.  
  
“Attention whore,” Andrea mouths to Giampaolo who grins back at him. They might be connected only through Riccardo, but that connection is tight enough to make them understand each other too, even if it is just in the bedroom.  
  
“Okay, come here, you,” Giampaolo tells Riccardo as he kicks off his own underwear, and Riccardo is more than happy to climb back into his lap. Riccardo moans softly when Giampaolo slips his hand between them, grasping their cocks into his hold.  
  
Andrea uses Riccardo’s distraction to open the bottle of lube and coat his fingers with the clear gel. Riccardo pushes against his hand immediately when he moves to find his entrance, rubbing his fingers between the buttocks until he presses the first digit through the ring of muscle.  
  
Riccardo is biting the inside of his lip, his eyes closed and forehead pressed against Giampaolo’s. He does not let out a sound as Andrea probes his insides, but Andrea can feel his body shivering with suppressed lust.  
  
“I’m adding another one,” he warns quietly. He can see Giampaolo adjusting the movements of his hand on their cocks in response.  
  
There is practically no resistance when he inserts the second finger, Riccardo’s attention completely drawn away from the preparation, only a small whimper escaping his lips between the shallow breaths that are following the rhythm of Giampaolo’s hand.  
  
“I’m ready, Andrea,” Riccardo chokes out when he moves to add third finger – Andrea knows he is, he just wanted to hear him say it before stopping – “Can you hold me? I want to know you’re there the whole time.”  
  
“If that’s what you want,” Andrea answers with a smile, dropping a kiss on Riccardo’s shoulder before he sits down again, finally pushing off his own underwear, “Come here, then.”  
  
Andrea leans his back against the headboard, spreading his legs so that Riccardo can settle between them, his back pressed against Andrea’s chest and his head resting on Andrea’s shoulder.  
  
“Comfortable?” Andrea asks Riccardo, waiting for his nod before turning his attention to Giampaolo, who is looking at them, uncertainty flashing over his features for the first time since they started. Andrea suddenly realizes this must be his first time with a man, even though he is surely familiar with the technical aspects.  
  
He picks up a condom from the nightstand and hands it to Giampaolo, who accepts it without a word, “Just go slow, Riccardo’s used to it so you shouldn’t hurt him as long as you’re not too rough. The lube’s next to you – the more you use the better.”  
  
“I’ll be fine, Giampi,” Riccardo adds softly, caressing the name on his tongue as he says it. Andrea wraps his arms around his shoulders and kisses his temple affectionately, silently thanking him when Giampaolo seems to gain more confidence from the words.  
  
Riccardo wraps his legs around Giampaolo the moment he kneels between his thighs, pulling him closer and lifting his hips just slightly off the bed with the extra support.  
  
Andrea focuses on Riccardo’s expression when Giampaolo pushes into him, his face twisting in discomfort momentarily before he lets out a heavy sigh, his body adjusting to the intrusion.  
  
“It doesn’t hurt,” he assures Giampaolo, opening his eyes to meet Giampaolo’s, a teasing smile tugging on his lips again, “It’d be better if you moved, though, you lazy fuck.”  
  
Andrea and Giampaolo laugh out at the same time, their eyes meeting for a second. Andrea tightens his hold on Riccardo and presses his mouth against his ear, “You’re impossible, you know that right?”  
  
Riccardo has no time to answer as Giampaolo pulls back slowly and thrusts into him again, the movement pushing Riccardo back against Andrea’s cock as well.  
  
Andrea has never realized how many details he misses while fucking Riccardo: the way he makes a visible effort not to moan out loud until he is too far gone to care; the way his eyes flutter only half-closed, the blue eyes darkening behind the long lashes; the way the first sounds from his lips escape almost by accident, small whimpers turning into throaty moans.  
  
It is all extremely arousing on its own – Riccardo’s whole being is pure  _sex_ , there is no other word for it – and combined with Riccardo’s buttocks that rub against Andrea’s erection with Giampaolo’s thrusts, he is nearing the edge by the time Riccardo gasps out, “I’m gonna come.”  
  
And he does, without even touching himself, spilling his seed between his and Giampaolo’s bellies, his breathy moan going straight into Andrea’s cock.  
  
Giampaolo pushes in a few more times as the trembling of Riccardo’s body begins to subside. Then he halts, buried fully inside Riccardo, and comes with a groan he tries to suppress into Riccardo’s neck.  
  
“That was good,” Riccardo says with a wide smile, lifting his hands to play with Giampaolo’s hair, obviously very content there in Andrea’s arms, Giampaolo still inside him, “So so so so good. You were great, Giampi.”  
  
He kisses Giampaolo before he finally unhooks his legs from around him, allowing him to pull out and remove the condom.  
  
“And you seemed to enjoy it as well,” Riccardo turns his attention to Andrea, whose cock is still pressed against his buttocks. He wriggles his hips on purpose, eyes lighting up with delight when Andrea cannot stop a moan from escaping his lips.  
  
“Of course I did: your ass was rubbing against me the whole time. And I happen to like your ass,” Andrea retorts in a low voice, rolling his eyes for a good measure.  
  
“I’ve noticed,” Riccardo says happily, far too chipper for someone who just came from prostate stimulation only. Andrea has realized during the course of their relationship that post coital exhaustion is an unfamiliar concept for him.  
  
Riccardo turns in Andrea’s arms, just enough that he can take his erection into his hand. It takes only four strokes before Andrea comes, grunting against Riccardo’s shoulder.  
  
“Thank you, Andrea,” Riccardo whispers into his ear, so quiet Giampaolo cannot hear them, “I love you so much. Thank you.”  
  
Andrea kisses him in response, just lips pressed together, affectionate and loving without need for anything else.  
  
“I don’t know about you two,” Riccardo says as he pulls away from Andrea, looking at Giampaolo who is sitting on the other side of the bed, “But I need a shower. And then something to eat. Is that Nepalese takeaway place open today, Andrea? Mind giving them a call?”  
  
And just like that, he disappears into the bathroom, leaving Andrea and Giampaolo alone in an uncomfortable silence.  
  
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this had been  _his_  idea all along,” Giampaolo says with a chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief, “I just hope he’s not having a nervous breakdown in there right now.”  
  
“I doubt it: this is the first time I’ve seen him this comfortable in his own body, like some kind of a dam just broke inside him,” Andrea answers with a fleeting smile, staring at the closed bathroom door without actually seeing anything.  
  
“So, worth sharing him?”  
  
“I’ve been sharing him with you all along, this was just the tip of the iceberg,” Andrea retorts as he picks up Riccardo’s phone from the nightstand, looking for the number of the restaurant, “So, Nepalese. You want anything in particular?”

**Author's Note:**

> \- Pazzo joined Atalanta in 1999, so he was around 15 when he met Monto (who was 14). He’s also been together with Silvia for 15 years now, which means they probably met pretty soon after he moved to Bergamo.  
> \- Milan was in Dubai from December 27 to December 31 or so. Monto and Cristina actually spent the Christmas there as well, but because in this story he’s not married, I figured he would’ve preferred staying home with Andrea.  
> \- This turned out _much_ longer than anticipated. Hope you feel loved, Nanna!  
>  \- Comments would be appreciated!


End file.
